


Doctor, Doctor Give Me the News (I've Got a Bad Case of Loving You)

by fearfully_beautifully_made



Series: Playing the Part [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Consensual, Doctor Kink, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, I Have No Excuse- This is Literally Just Smut, I'm Sorry, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Medical Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prostate Massage, Stressing: This is Role Play, role play, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearfully_beautifully_made/pseuds/fearfully_beautifully_made
Summary: “What do you think about role play?”John spluttered, choking a bit on his tea, but Sherlock was always like this when it came to talking about sex. He set his tea cup down and took a fortifying breath, “Well, I think it depends on what you have in mind.”"I'd like to play Doctor," Sherlock replied, with one of those maddening smirks of his and even thought John knew this was a bad idea, he already knew he was going to say yes.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: Playing the Part [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170461
Comments: 15
Kudos: 133





	Doctor, Doctor Give Me the News (I've Got a Bad Case of Loving You)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't quite know what to say about this one. It's filthy and I have no excuse except that I love doctor kink stories and decided to write one of my own. I just want to stress that everything in this is consensual- I didn't write out the kink negotiation but you may presume that they worked it all out before role playing. 
> 
> Anyway, if you're here getting ready to read this, I hope that you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> The usual disclaimers apply, all mistakes are my own, I don't make money from my fics, please don't post to another site (I don't mind if you want to rec it on tumblr or some other platform, though), etc.
> 
> The title is borrowed from a song called "Bad Case of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)" by Robert Palmer that I remember hearing when I was a little kid riding around in my dad's old pick up truck. It's one of those ear worm type songs that I probably haven't heard in 20 years, but it's still in the back of my head for whatever reason. Anyway. Enjoy!

John had been simply minding his own business one afternoon, typing up their most recent adventure (that had very nearly ended with them being thrown into the Thames; John was even more grateful for Sherlock’s brilliance that usual that day) when Sherlock came in and, as he was wont to do, turned the whole afternoon on its head.

“What do you think about role play?” 

John spluttered, choking a bit on his tea, but Sherlock was always like this when it came to talking about sex. He set his tea cup down and took a fortifying breath, “Well, I think it depends on what you have in mind.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him and John got the impression that this had been the exact wrong thing to say, as it seemed to have opened more doors in Sherlock’s mind than it had closed. “Interesting,” Sherlock said tapping his forefingers against his lower lip in a movement that John found both mildly frustrating and arousing. 

And if that didn’t perfectly sum up his feelings for his flatmate turned best friend turned love of his life, he didn’t know what did. 

“What?” he asked him, dreading the answer a bit.

Sherlock made a motion with his hand as though batting the thought away, “Mmm, we’re not going to worry about it now.” 

“Alright,” John replied agreeably, “Why do you bring up role play?” 

The other man brushed his finger over his lower lip contemplatively before saying, “I’d like to play doctor,” with one of those maddening smirks of his.

There were a lot of reasons that this was a bad idea. A lot of reasons.

John’s brain, though, couldn’t seem to get past the image those words had evoked. He licked his lips.

“Oh,” Sherlock said, eyebrows rising in surprise. “I hadn’t expected you to be quite this open to it.”

John glared at him, “I should immediately say no. Being a doctor and playing a doctor seem like a dicy line to cross.” 

“But,” Sherlock started for him, trailing off meaningfully.

“Tell me more about what you’re envisioning,” he said with a sigh.

Sherlock grinned at him in much the way John imagined a cat would grin at a mouse just before it ensnares it. “I do love you, John,” Sherlock said. “You are always so full of surprises.”

And even though he hadn’t actually said yes, John knew without a doubt that he would be by the end of the conversation.

\-------------------------------------------

The room was just this side of too cool, goose pimples had covered his arms and legs, and his nipples had hardened, as Sherlock had stripped out of his perfectly respectable clothes and pulled on the flimsy paper gown. There was no dignity in these things, they were positively mortifying; leaving your body hardly covered at all. In fact, Sherlock was fairly certain that he would have felt less exposed if he was simply naked.

He forced himself to still his hands in his lap and to stop picking at his cuticles, but there was hardly anything else to do apart from staring anxiously at the clock on the wall and waiting for his appointment time to finally arrive. The paper covering the table underneath him crinkled as he rather unsuccessfully fought the urge to squirm. Sherlock had just about decided that he ought to stand up and pace a bit when he heard the polite knock at the door before Dr. Watson entered the room. 

The good doctor looked up at him, “Hello, I’m Dr. Watson, you must be Sherlock?” His eyes were warm and soft; he looked calm and confident and Sherlock felt some of the pressure unwind in his chest.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Looks like you’re in for a physical today,” he said, checking the notes on the chart he held in his hand, “is that right?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Sherlock replied obediently.

“Excellent,” Dr. Watson said, stepping over to him and setting the chart on the table beside him before reaching out casually for Sherlock’s wrist and feeling for his pulse. “Have you had any fluctuations in weight or in appetite lately, Sherlock?”

“No.”

“Any sudden changes in mood or behavior?”

“No.”

“Any drug use, excessive drinking, or smoking?” Dr. Watson asked.

“No, no, and just nicotine patches.”

“Good,” he said, making quick notes on his charts. “Your pulse is good, 62. Let’s grab your temperature really quickly.”

Sherlock opened his mouth, waiting for Dr. Watson to put the thermometer between his lips and rest it under his tongue.

“Oh, we don't take temperatures orally,” he said with a smile to soothe any embarrassment that Sherlock might be feeling.

“Ah,” Sherlock said with a quick nod. “Tympanic does make more sense.”

Dr. Watson smiled at him again, “We actually use rectal thermometers.”

“Rectal thermometers?” Sherlock squeaked, feeling his face and neck flush. “I thought those were only used for children.”

“They get the most accurate readings,” Dr. Watson said smoothly. “I’ll just have you jump down from the table for a minute.”

With a bit of reluctance, Sherlock did as he was told.

“Then you can just turn around, bend over, and brace your arms on the table. We’ll be done in a jiffy.”

He turn around and did what Dr. Watson had instructed, feeling a bit uncomfortable, bu at least he didn’t have to look at him while this was happening. “Perfect,” Dr. Watson praised and Sherlock felt a rush of heat in his belly that wasn’t entirely embarrassment. “I’m just going to flip this up,” he said as he flipped the bottom of Sherlock’s robe up, exposing his bottom. He must have read the tension in Sherlock's body because the next words out of his mouth were “Just relax,” his voice low and soothing.

Before Sherlock could think or say anything else, Dr. Watson was parting his buttocks with one hand and easily inserting the rectal thermometer with the other. Sherlock squirmed, his penis giving a twitch at having Dr. Watson’s hands touching him so intimately.

“I know it can feel a bit odd,” the doctor soothed, “But they do give the most accurate readings and it will be over in just a moment.”

As if on cue, the thermometer beeped and Dr. Watson removed it. Sherlock didn’t wait for instructions; he just stood up and turned around, hiding his bottom from Dr. Watson's view once more.

Dr. Watson checked the reading, “36.5, just right. You can hop back up on the table.”

Sherlock did without a word and the other man turned to pick up his blood pressure cuff from his kit. He took the moment to calm himself, taking a deep breath and willing his heart to stop racing (and his penis to stop reacting). 

“Next we’ll take a quick check on your blood pressure,” he said, seemingly unaware of the war Sherlock was fighting with his body, as he slid the cuff up Sherlock’s arm and pumped it up, watching his watch as he let it out slowly. 

Sherlock always liked blood pressure cuffs. He liked the tight, tight, tight pressure and the gradual release. He liked the way it held everything compact while he told his body to relax and then it gradually let off until everything went relaxed again. Slowly the embarrassment he’d been feeling slipped away as the blood pressure cuff released. 

Dr. Watson undid the Velcro and let it drop, “Good, 120 over 70; just where we want you to be.” He made another note, then said, “Let’s take a listen to your lungs and heart, shall we?” 

Sherlock watched as he conscientiously warmed the stethoscope up on his coat before Dr. Watson drew down the front of his paper gown to place the stethoscope on his chest. He listened for a moment and then shifted, drawing the gown down in another spot. He repeated this process twice more before moving and doing the same thing in the back, sliding his hand through the gap in the gown in the back and listening in different places, instructing Sherlock to take a “deep breath” each time. 

At the last place Dr. Watson rested his stethoscope, Sherlock got a little cold chill, a shiver raced up his spine and drew his nipples into tight peaks. He exhaled and tried to force his body to behave. 

Finally Dr. Watson pulled back, wrapping the stethoscope back around his neck, “Good,” he said, giving his hands one quick clap, “All very good, Sherlock. You seem to be in fine health.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sherlock said. He chewed on his bottom lip, searching for the words to say what he didn’t quite know how to say without dying from embarrassment. 

“You seem a bit concerned,” Dr. Watson said with a frown. “Are you sure you’re alright? Is there something I can help you with? I am a doctor, after all.”

“It’s just,” Sherlock sucked in a breath, “I’ve been having some trouble, Doctor,” he paused again and looked at his hands, his forefinger worrying at the cuticle on his thumb.

Dr. Watson leaned against the counter across from Sherlock, his posture open and relaxed, “It’s alright, Sherlock. Whatever it is, best to get it out and we’ll tackle it from there. I'm sure you won't be the first.”

“I’ve been getting a lot of erections at night,” Sherlock spilled quickly, his cheeks flushing bright red at the admission. “And normally, they would take care of themselves through nocturnal emissions, but that hasn’t seemed to have been the case lately. And I can’t seem to make them go away in the morning, either.”

“Have you tried masturbating, Mr. Holmes?” Dr. Watson asked gently.

Sherlock swallowed and nodded, “But it hasn’t been very successful, Doctor.”

Dr. Watson nodded, looking thoughtful for a moment, “Well, let’s do a quick external pelvic exam and see what we can figure out, hmm? It might be a hormonal imbalance, too, so if we can’t figure something out here I’ll send you to get some blood work run, yes?”

“Alright,” Sherlock said, feeling a bit relieved, “Thank you doctor.”

“That’s why I’m here, no need to thank me,” Dr. Watson said as he stepped over to the table. “Lay back, please.”

Sherlock did as he was asked, scooching a bit to try and get comfortable on the hard surface. Dr. Watson reached for the top of his gown and tore it down the center, stopping at Sherlock’s belly button and leaving his crotch modestly covered by the flimsy paper. Sherlock felt his traitorous cock give a twitch and willed it to behave. 

“I’m just going to do some abdominal palpitations. You tell me if you feel anything uncomfortable or anything painful straight away, alright?”

“Yes, doctor,” Sherlock said obediently.

Dr. Watson started to press on his belly then, moving around methodically from one spot to another, pressing and rubbing. Sherlock found it oddly soothing and he’d just relaxed into the flow when Dr. Watson touched the sensitive flesh right below his belly button, trailing down lower. 

Sherlock’s cock gave another twitch and Sherlock inhaled sharply.

At the sound, Dr. Watson’s head shot up to look at Sherlock's face from where he’d been watching his progress. “Everything alright? Does something hurt?”

“No, sir, just sensitive.”

“Sensitive how?” Dr. Watson asked in concern.

“Ticklish,” Sherlock responded, even though that wasn’t the whole truth.

Dr. Watson merely nodded, “Sherlock, I’d like to do a rectal exam as well. To test your pelvic floor muscles and check your prostate.”

“Is that necessary, Doctor?” Sherlock asked, thinking of his already semi erect penis and imagining that this would only make matters worse.

“Well, there’s nothing out of the ordinary here,” Dr. Watson said patiently, brushing his fingers lightly over Sherlock’s stomach to indicate where he was referring to. “So I think we need to rule out the possibility of those things before we send you for unnecessary testing with other people. It shouldn’t hurt, Sherlock,” he added gently as though he believed that was what Sherlock would be worried about.

Sherlock sighed shakily then nodded.

“Good man,” Dr. Watson said. He rolled his stool to the end of the table, “Right bend your knees and then scooch down to the end of the table until you can feel my hand.”

Sherlock bit his lip, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable as he bent his legs up and his gown lifted with them. He was sure Dr. Watson could see his pale bottom once more and he clamped his thighs together as he slid down, in hopes of keeping his testicles and cock hidden at least partially from Dr. Watson’s view.

He continued sliding down until he felt Dr. Watson’s hand touch his bottom and a wave of heady arousal coursed through his veins at the brief contact. He knew he was in a lot of trouble. 

“Right,” Dr. Watson said, “I need you to spread your legs, Sherlock. I’m afraid I can’t see anything like this and I need to be able to reach your anus.”

Sherlock felt his cheeks flush, this was completely mortifying, probably the most mortifying thing that he’d ever endured. He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he slowly let his legs fall apart until his knees were spread as wide as his feet. 

“There we are,” Dr. Watson said in what Sherlock imagined was supposed to be a reassuring manner but did nothing except send a hot wave of embarrassment and arousal racing through his veins, which only served to make his traitorous erection bigger. 

He stared up at the ceiling and started going through the periodic table in his head to try to distract himself and to try to get his arousal to simmer down. Unfortunately, the sound of latex gloves being snapped into place dashed any hope of getting his arousal under control to pieces, the sound made Sherlock’s cock twitch and he all but begged his body to behave. His body, it seemed, was entirely uninterested in his mind’s entreaties.

“Since you weren’t preparing ahead for this part of the exam,” Dr. Watson said kindly, “We’re just going to give you a quick wipe.” He continued before Sherlock could fully process, “Nothing to worry about, I have some wipes here and I’m just going to make sure you’re nice and clean before we get started." 

Sherlock’s cheeks flamed and he started to perspire a bit from the heat rising to the surface of his skin. He took it back, this was the most mortifying thing to ever happen to him. Dr. Watson was about to take a wipe and wipe his bottom like a baby having a nappy changed. He almost choked. 

But before he could protest, Dr. Watson’s hands were touching him, preparing to do just that. He parted Sherlock’s buttocks and Sherlock could feel his gaze examining his hole, then one of his hands held Sherlock’s buttocks spread wide while the other brought the damp wipe to his anus. Sherlock let a harsh puff of air out of his nose at the sensation.

Dr. Watson wiped him carefully and thoroughly, diligently dragging the cool pad across his sensitive flesh over and over until he apparently deemed him clean enough. When his hand drew back goose pimples broke out across Sherlock’s skin as the air cooled the remaining moisture. 

“There we are,” Dr. Watson said again. “Nice and clean." Then a moment later there was a finger, thoroughly lubed, spreading lube around his hole, working a bit inside without really breaching him. After a moment, that same finger was pressing against his entrance. Dr. Watson’s soothing voice cut through the din in Sherlock’s head as he calmly said, “Deep breath and bear down a little for me, just like if you were trying to use the loo.”

Sherlock did as he was told, fighting the arousal with every fiber of his being.

“There we are,” Dr. Watson murmured as his finger slipped in, “Bear down a bit again and contract your pelvic floor for me." Sherlock did, “Good,” Dr. Watson praised. “Now once more,” he said after he’d adjusted his finger a bit further. 

Sherlock did again, but this time something sparked inside of him and his muscles clenched again just a bit harder, spasming around Dr. Watson’s finger. To Sherlock’s dismay his penis rather seemed to enjoy this sort of attention and it twitched hard, coming to a full erection, he could see it pressing obscenely through his paper gown and was sure that Dr. Watson could see it in its full glory. He exhaled heavily and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the way his body was happily betraying him. 

“Good,” Dr. Watson said, drawing his finger out, “That’s good." 

Sherlock let his knees clamp together once again, profoundly glad that this was over. 

“Oh, we’re not done, Mr. Holmes,” Dr. Watson said kindly. “I still need to check your prostate. If you could spread your legs again, please.”

Slowly, Sherlock spread his knees once again but this time his gown slipped up and flopped back against his belly as the weight of his cock, growing more erect still, pinned it there. Sherlock hadn’t thought it was possible to be even more embarrassed than he had been, but his body seemed bound and determined to prove him wrong as he laid on the table, legs spread wide with all of the most intimate parts of himself on display.

Dr. Watson looked up and Sherlock could see he was looking at his cock, rock hard and dripping precome. “Dear me,” Dr. Watson mumbled mildly and Sherlock felt himself flush with shame. “It’s alright, Sherlock,” Dr. Watson assured as he stood up and moved to the cupboard. He pulled out two sterile gauzes, with one he gingerly lifted Sherlock’s erection, causing shooting thrills of pleasure through Sherlock’s body, then he laid the other on Sherlock’s stomach under where the head of his cock had been laying. “It’s quite natural,” he said as he laid Sherlock’s cock back down on his belly. “Although, it might be best to just take a sample now,” he murmured thoughtfully, more to himself than to Sherlock. 

Sherlock watched as the doctor turned his back and moved to the cabinets, pulling out a q-tip in a sterile package and a petri dish. He set the dish down and split the wrapper around the swab. “I’m going to touch your penis for a moment,” he said, his voice calm and steady as though he wasn’t saying anything that Sherlock would find arousing at all. “I’m going to draw back your foreskin and get a sample of your pre-ejaculate just to check on a few things, alright?”

It wasn’t really alright, Sherlock thought desperately, his cock was already so hard and he was sure the added attention wouldn’t help things at all. 

“Sherlock?” Dr. Watson asked kindly, “Are you alright? Do you need anything? A glass of water, perhaps?”

“No,” Sherlock gasped out. “No, no it’s fine. Please do whatever you think needs to be done, Doctor.”

“Just relax,” Dr. Watson soothed. “This is all completely natural, very healthy. It’s a good sign, Sherlock, there’s no need to be embarrassed." He reached out and took Sherlock’s erection in his hand and it took everything in him not to arch into his touch, to press his cock up into Dr. Watson’s loose grip and beg him to touch him, stroke his cock, anything. 

“I’m going to draw back the foreskin now,” Dr. Watson said, oblivious to Sherlock’s inner turmoil, his fingers moving to do just that and expose Sherlock’s sensitive glans. Dr. Watson picked up the swab, “Here we are, nice easy swab around the glans, collect a bit of fluid and we’ll be all set.”

He ran the tip of the swab around Sherlock’s cock, collecting some of his precome from the slit and off his glans. 

It felt fantastic.

His fingers were gentle but capable and Sherlock’s cock twitched in his grip. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the paper covered table and Sherlock managed to bite back a moan just in time.

It was all over too soon, Dr. Watson set the swab down and covered the Petri dish before he laid Sherlock’s cock back across his stomach. “Very good, Sherlock. That was very good," Sherlock's cock gave a twitch at the praise and he very much hoped that by some miracle, Dr. Watson hadn't noticed. "Let’s finish the exam, shall we?”

He moved back between Sherlock’s legs once more, pumping a bit of lube on his hand, "Knees bent," he instructed, "Legs spread for me." 

_For me._ Sherlock shuddered. Yes, he'd do anything the doctor asked of him he thought in a haze of lust. 

Then two fingers were at Sherlock’s entrance, distracting him from trying to get his wayward thoughts under control. “Nice deep breath,” Dr. Watson said, “And in we go." 

This time two fingers pressed inside Sherlock’s body, the stretch should have stung but it did nothing but increase his arousal. Then the two fingers Dr. Watson had inserted curved and pressed against Sherlock’s prostate. Sherlock gasped as hot pleasure washed through him, he had to fight the urge to grind down on the Doctor's fingers and thoroughly fuck himself.

“Your prostate does feel a bit swollen,” Dr. Watson said, as though he hadn’t noticed how ridiculously aroused Sherlock was in the slightest. His fingers continued to press inside of him. “Sherlock, I think that we’ve discovered the root of your trouble.” he said as he re-angled his fingers so he could rub circles around his prostate, “Your swollen prostate might be what has been causing the pressure you’ve felt and it’s certainly responsible for the erections." Dr. Watson continued stroking over and around his prostate, setting his veins on fire and making it dreadfully hard to listen. “I’d like to try to drain some of the extra fluid if you’re amenable.”

“Will it hurt, Doctor?”

“Not at all. I think you’ll find quite the opposite in fact,” Dr. Watson said reassuringly. 

“Alright,” Sherlock replied. “What do you need me to do?”

Dr. Watson withdrew his fingers and it took everything in Sherlock not to beg him to stuff them right back in. “I’ll need you to roll over onto your hands and knees on the table,” he said, turning from Sherlock as he made his way over to his bag and dug around. “We may as well collect a sample while we’re at it,” he said, almost to himself.

Sherlock rolled over and knelt up on the hard table and it was only once he had positioned himself that he realized just how much of his body he was putting on display. With his knees spread wide apart the way they were, he was sure that Dr. Watson would have a crystal clear view of everything between Sherlock’s legs. 

The man seemed not to notice Sherlock’s discomfort as he flipped the back of his gown up and exposed him even further before setting the jar he’d be using to collect a sample on the table under Sherlock’s penis. “Very good,” he encouraged. “We’ll have this over in no time and I am sure that you will feel much, much better.”

Sherlock nodded but couldn’t manage to find any words.

“Here we go,” Dr. Watson said, spreading his buttocks with one hand and Sherlock could feel the heat of his gaze on his hole. A moment later his fingers (covered in a generous coat of lubricant once more) were pressing back against Sherlock’s hole with the other hand.

Sherlock whimpered and then his hole clenched shut tightly in embarrassment. He buried his face in his arms, he couldn’t do it, forget it, he could just live with the nightly erections.

“It’s alright,” Dr. Watson soothed, removing the hand that had been spreading apart Sherlock’s butt cheeks so he could rub soothing at his sacrum. “I’m a doctor, Sherlock. I know it may feel a bit odd but it’s alright for me to touch you here,” he said as his fingers rubbed gently at Sherlock’s hole, massaging, relaxing. “I just want to help you, I promise that I'm going to make you feel better. Take a few deep breaths and relax a bit, yes?”

Sherlock nodded, shakily trying to get a few deep enough breaths. His body relaxed minimally and Dr. Watson hummed in a pleased manner, “That’s it. Good lad,” he said as his fingers continued to rub around his entrance. “That’s it,” he murmured, as he pressed inside of Sherlock's body once more.

“There we are,” Dr. Watson said once his fingers were fully inserted again. “Well done,” he praised and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He began pressing gently at Sherlock's prostate, sending zinging waves of pleasure straight to his cock. “How does that feel? Any pain or discomfort?”

“Full,” Sherlock murmured around a moan that decided to slip from his lips simultaneously.

“Any pain at all?” Dr. Watson asked, ignoring Sherlock’s arousal once again.

“No, sir.”

“Good,” he praised. “Tell me straight away if anything hurts, alright?” 

“Yes,” Sherlock panted, his body shuddering as the doctor used just the tips of his fingertips to draw light circles over his prostate. “Oh,” Sherlock breathed, he looked down between his legs to see a long, pearly strand of precome leaking from his cock and into the cup Dr. Watson had placed there.

“That’s it,” Dr. Watson encouraged, “That’s a very good start.” He started to press harder circles.

Sherlock’s mouth popped open and a low moan escaped, “Oh,” he groaned, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dr. Watson said, he rubbed his free hand over Sherlock’s lower back once more, soothing him, “No need to be sorry. It’s all completely fine. You’re doing so well,” he praised. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” Sherlock moaned. 

“Good,” Dr. Watson replied. 

“I’m going to apply a bit of pressure to your perineum, massaging internally and externally at the same time, alright?”

“Whatever you think is,” he broke off to moan at a particularly delicious zing of pleasure that reached all the way to his toes. “Oh,” he sighed, rocking his hips a bit. “Whatever you think is best, Dr. Watson.”

“Very good,” Dr. Watson said. His hand trailed feather light along the underside of Sherlock’s cock, then over his testicles, before reaching its destination. He wasn’t sure if that was intentional, or just a product of Dr. Watson paying attention to what his other hand was doing. 

Before he could spend any more time dwelling on it, though, Dr. Watson was massaging his perineum from the outside and his prostate from the inside and Sherlock felt like every neuron in his brain was setting off fireworks. 

He wailed, body shuddering, “Dr. Watson,” he begged. “Please.” 

“I know,” he soothed, “I know. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he whimpered, eyes squeezing shut tight as he focused on the sensation. 

Dr. Watson’s hand slid down lower and he cupped Sherlock’s testicles, rolling them gently on his way to loosely hold Sherlock’s erection in his hand. “I’m just going to help make sure your sample makes it into the cup, alright?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Sherlock moaned. “More than alright.”

Dr. Watson kept his cock aimed at the cup and began to massage just a bit harder, stroking over Sherlock’s prostate. 

“Please,” Sherlock begged, feeling right on the knife’s edge of orgasm but not quite able to tip over.

“Tell me what you need,” Dr. Watson instructed.

“Stroke my cock,” he begged. “Please Dr. Watson, please. I need it,” he gasped, far past the point of being too embarrassed to ask for what he wanted.

“Alright,” Dr. Watson soothed. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes,” Sherlock cried, moaning loudly as the other man stroked his cock three times before using his thumb and rubbing a circle against Sherlock’s sensitive frenulum. All the while, his other hand massaged his prostate, if Sherlock were more coherent, he would have been impressed by Dr. Watson’s ability to multitask. 

“That’s it,” he said, “Feel good?”

“Yes,” Sherlock moaned. “So good. I can feel it coming,” he groaned. “Dr. Watson, I can feel it.”

“Good,” he said, “Just relax and let it out. You're doing beautifully.”

“Dr. Watson,” Sherlock gasped, his muscles starting to clench tighter, “I’m going to-”

“Yes,” the doctor said, “I’ve got you. Just let go.”

“I’m,” Sherlock managed to get out before he was orgasming, Dr. Watson’s hands working in tandem as he stroked Sherlock’s cock, prolonging his pleasure and continued to rub his prostate until every last drop of pleasure had been wrung from Sherlock’s trembling body. 

“Okay, I’ve got you,” John murmured, catching Sherlock as he started to collapse. He balanced him carefully as he pulled off his glove, then lifted him into his arms. Sherlock groaned, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face into his shoulder. “I know, love,” John murmured, pressing a kiss into his curls as he carried him back into the bedroom and set him on the bed. 

John removed what remained of the paper gown and slid Sherlock’s still boneless body under the covers.

“John,” he groaned. 

“Mmm?” 

“That was spectacular,” he said, rolling to press his naked, sated body against John’s. “You were spectacular.”

John chuckled, “I’m glad you thought so.”

“Let me,” Sherlock said, his hand sliding down John’s body to work at the zipper. 

John hissed as Sherlock got his trousers and pants down far enough that he could reach his cock. 

“Oh,” he hummed, pleased at how hard John’s cock was. “Did you like it, too?” 

“You know I did,” John said, groaning as Sherlock started pumping his cock. 

“Yeah? You liked playing Doctor with me?”

“Yes, you madman. You’re fucking gorgeous. And you play innocent so well.”

Sherlock smiled, pleased at the compliment. “Well you have an excellent bedside manner, Dr. Watson,” he teased, sucking at John’s earlobe. “Such a good, kind doctor to take such good care of me,” he murmured hotly in John’s ear.

John moaned, “Shut up.”

“But you like it,” he said, spreading the copious amount of precome along John’s shaft. Then he rubbed his thumb in a circle over the sensitive slit on John's cock, just the way the other man liked it, as he added, “You like taking care of me.”

“Fuck,” he gasped, hips jerking. “Fuck, Sherlock,” he groaned as he spilled all over Sherlock’s belly. 

Sherlock worked him through his orgasm, pressing kisses to his jaw and neck.

John gathered Sherlock into his arms, holding him close. “I do love taking care of you,” he murmured.

He grinned against John's neck and settled more fully into his embrace. "The rectal thermometer was a nice surprise."

John chuckled, "I thought you might like that."

"We need to get one of the ones that vibrates when it's taken the temperature," Sherlock mused. 

The other man shook his head but he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's curls just the same.

"So about those other role playing scenarios," Sherlock started.

"Let's tackle those after a nap. One kink at a time, if you please."

Sherlock smiled to himself and pressed a kiss to John's suprasternal notch, "Whatever the doctor orders."

**Author's Note:**

> That's it friends. I hope you enjoyed this silly little fic. I might end up turning this into a series of role play kinks, we'll have to see how it goes. :)


End file.
